Mark’s pov

What!

There were very few things that could still surprise me.

It came with the job for the most part. I had rigorous training in anticipating the worst. Always.

Tiffany being taken from me was the first surprise I had had in a long time.

The second came the very next day when Charlie Temper summoned me to his home office. Charlie’s home was the most unassuming, humble place you would think a billionaire, ex king of wall street, now aspiring senator would live. It was bullshit of course. It was all a carefully crafted image to draw in supporters for his campaign.

It was also secure as hell. 24/7 armed security, bullet proof windows and doors and the whole works.

It was overkill to me and I thought that Temper was one paranoid son of a bitch.

I walked into Temper’s office ready to give him my whole spiel about how I was going to get Tiffany back and make whoever took her pay.

The door had barely clicked shut behind me when Temper whirled around from where he was standing at the window and offered me a winning smile.

“Mark!” He spread out his hand in a welcoming gesture.

Something horrible tingles in my spine. I tried to remember if I’d been dreaming when I frantically called Mark last night to inform him someone had taken his daughter. But no, his bland

“Hmm. That’s unfortunate.” Was as fresh as laundered sheets in my head.

I had never been a big fan of Temper. Purely on principle though. Tiffany didn’t exactly like him. And who Tiffany liked, I liked and all that. Except of course the men that seemed to be surgically attached to her hip. I hated every one of those fuckers.

“Sir?”

“I know this job hasn’t been the easiest for you. The lack of downtime has probably sucked eh?”

“Uhm. No. I-“

“What I’m trying to say is that you can take one month off. Paid of course.” He cut in.

“What about-“

“She sent me a text last night. See for yourself.” He pulled out his phone from his pants pocket and handed it to me. I took it hesitantly.

True to his word, there was a text from Tiffany’s number.

“ _Dad, I’ve been feeling so suffocated lately and I just needed to get away. Please don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Tell Mark to take a break. He needs it!. Xoxo.”

I was sure my eyebrows were somewhere near my hairline by the time I was done reading ‘Tiffany’s’ text. I just about held off a scoff.

Tiffany might act like a teenager ninety nine percent of the time, but the one thing she definitely didn’t do was text like a deranged one.

All of Tiffany’s messages to me had been real, complete sentences with punctuations and readability. Whoever had crafted that message for my benefit hadn’t done their research. I handed him back his phone with a solemn nod, trying to look relieved. It must have worked because his eyes narrowed at me, going hard for a second before he went back to shining brilliant, white teeth at me.

“I think I’ll go see my mum, sir. It’s been so long, honestly.”

“You do that. I should have given you a break way sooner than this. Sorry about the oversight.”

“It’s no problem at all, sir.” I turned and walked off. As I made the drive back home; the penthouse apartment where Tiffany and I had lived for the last six years, I wrote a mental list of what I now knew.

Something was going on. Temper definitely knew about it. Temper most definitely didn’t want me or anyone digging into it. Whoever had written that text didn’t know Tiffany at all. She would rather drink piss than type in abbreviations. Oh, and Temper definitely didn’t know me. If he did, he would have known about my absolute devotion to his daughter and that I’d rather die than let this go.

I couldn’t believe I had wasted precious time. Time that Tiffany didn’t have to go get brainwashed by Charli Temper. I had always known the man was a weasel, I just hadn’t known the extent of it.

I called an old contact on my way back to the penthouse.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Hey, Rex. I see you’re still as grouchy as ever.” There was a pause.

“Mark?”

“Who else would want to speak to you?” I asked. Rex snorted.

We had been in the same special forces division in the army before we had both left. Only the both of us had walked out alive from a team of twelve. That final mission had scared both of us and even though we had promised to keep in touch, this was the first time in years we were speaking. We reminded each other too much of a past that we were desperately trying to run from.

“What do you need?” his voice turned serious.

“Who says I need something?”

“Cut the bullshit. You wouldn’t be calling me and sounding like someone just snatched your kid if you didn’t need something.” I winced at the analogy. Tiffany was young enough to be my daughter but the thoughts I had about her were as far from fatherly as possible.

“I need you to run a license plate for me and dig out any information about the man who owns the plates that you can find.” I was assuming it was a man that had taken Tiffany, but I could be wrong. The information about the license plate quote coincidentally while scrolling through pictures of Tiffany that I had found on her laptop. I had been trying to check for any suspicious faces and saw the black Jaguar at the edge of her selfie. It hadn’t registered as anything till I had seen the same jaguar in another photo on a different occasion.

It wasn’t a coincidence at all. Whoever owned that car had been tailing us for I don’t know how long. I couldn’t stop beating myself up for not noticing. Being Tiffany’s bodyguard had been uneventful, the only noteworthy part of it of recent had been how frequently I hid in the bathroom to adjust my hard on or wait for it to die down.

“Sure, call it.” I rattled off the plate numbers.

“Hmm.” He grunted. “I’ll call you when I have something.”

“Rex, this is urgent.”

“Give me an hour or two.” He hung up. All I could do now was wait and torture myself with the fact that every second I just sat around biting my thumb, Tiffany could be getting seriously hurt.

As soon as I got to the penthouse, I raced upstairs and got a duffel bag out, throwing in clothes and shoes haphazardly.

I had to leave this apartment and get to my storage facility where all my guns were stashed.

I didn’t know if Temper had set people on my tail, I didn’t trust Temper as far as I could throw him.

I needed to drive around a little, lose the tail or at least convince them that I was actually on my merry way to my mum’s house.

I changed out of my dark suit into a maroon polo and black jeans, sunshades covering my eyes.

I threw the duffel over my shoulder and walked back to the car, making a show of throwing the clothes into the boot and looking like somebody that was about to head out for a mini vacation.

My mother had never forgiven me for following my father’s footsteps to join the army, I hadn’t seen her in more than two decades.

She wouldn’t be happy to see me, but then, neither would I be to see her.

My phone buzzed just as I got into the car.

“I’ve found the Italian fucker.”